When You Can't Carry On
by Veronica Lacroix
Summary: The story of Briseis after the Trojan War. (Flashbacks) Rating for love scenes.
1. Death

Disclaimer: None of the characters in the story following are my property. None of the large events that take place are my property. They are the property of Homer, author of the Illiad. I own only their thoughts and ideas.  
  
Author's Note: I am taking this story almost solely from the movie and my own memory. Some of it has reference to the movie, though lines may be different. Part of it is my own imagination, such as after the battle. Another note, I'll be using ( --- ) to signify the story breaks. I'll be using ( ..'..'.. ) to signify flasback beginnings and ends. Please review  
  
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Briseis stumbled out of the tunnel after Andromache and Helen. Close behind her was Paris, still weilding his bow. She was so out of breath, her head was swimming. What had happened? She didn't want to remember, for the tears were still wet on her cheeks. Achilles was dead, honest-to-the-gods dead. She didn't want to believe it. It just wasn't possible. He was invincible, no man could have ever touched him. That was fact...his death was fiction, but somewhere deep down, she knew it was real.  
Lost in thought, she didn't pay any mind to where she stepped and so naturally, she stepped onto a stone and slipped, nearly falling. But Paris caught her by the arm. She turned around, almost thanking him. Something screamed inside her. No! It said. He killed him...he did it. She wrenched her arm out of his grip with a snarl. Involuntarilly, her mind repeated the sad event moments ago.  
  
..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'. .'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'.. '  
  
She was frightened. She had searched everywhere for him and he could not be found. What if she had passed him without realizing it? What if...he didn't want her? She stamped herself to a stop, putting her fists to her head, trying to think. The shouts, the screams, the burning, it all clouded her mind. "Achilles!" She called, but there wasn't any way he could hear her. She had lost him. Suddenly, she felt a strong grip on her arm. Unwillingly, she was swung around to face that so-called king who had given her so gladly to the Greek soldiers.  
  
"Ah," Agamemnon. "What have we here?"  
  
"Let me go!"  
  
"No, I do not think that will be happening." Agamemnon grinned sickeningly. I winced as he drew as finger across my neck. "A Trojan Priestress should make a very nice price...or a valuable slave. Yes, I like the sound of that, having a Trojan princess to scrub my floors and prepare my suppers."  
  
I couldn't bear to think of being subject to the Greek pig's will. As he spoke so sure of himself, I felt for my dagger. I put it into my free hand and held it behind my back. Just as Agamemnon was leaning in, I stabbed him deeply in the chest with a soft cry. I held it down, watching him crumble to the ground. I heard footsteps and turned around, expecting to see one of the King's minions. But it was Achilles.  
  
"Achilles!" I whispered and rushed into his arms. Somehow I knew everything would be all right as I kissed him. He held me close, saying something that I did not quite catch. For out of the corner of my eye, I saw Paris, standing up on a terrace, an arrow ready on his bow. Achilles wrapped his arms tighter around me and I smiled up at him. Then a heard the softest rushing sound and next thing I knew, Achilles was bent over in pain.  
  
I turned to Paris. How could I explain about the Greek man in so little words? "No!" The word just tumbled out of my mouth. "No, don't!"  
  
But he drew back his string again. I looked at Achilles, just as he was hit in the chest by another arrow. "No!!" I yelled toward the terrace. Paris was making a mistake. "Stop!!"  
  
Twice more he'd shot at him. He showed his strength by simply pulling the arrows out, but I saw the pain etched in his face. Paris was going to kill him!  
  
"NO!" I screamed at Paris. Why wasn't he listening? "STOP! DON'T!"  
  
One more arrow had brought Achilles to his knees. I fell beside him, a burning in my throat. I felt the tears of anger burst and roll down my cheeks. Oh gods, you can't die! I held onto him. I felt his shuddering breath and cooling body. I began to cry.  
  
"You must go now, Briseis. I no longer hold you captive. Go."  
  
"I can't, I will not. You have to come with me!"  
  
"No, no, I am dying. Briseis, go now."  
  
I clung to him, my shoulders shaking with sobs. This wasn't happening. I no longer felt the world spinning. Everything had stopped, even my heart. Tears had clouded my vision and I didn't see. I put my hands into his soft, wavy hair. I felt him nuzzle my cheek with his jaw and I pressed against him. Don't leave me here. Don't go. I tilted my head up and kissed him. His lips were still warm and full against mine. I felt him slack a little, and my arms supported him. He kissed my teary cheeks and whispered something in my ear. Let me die with him, I thought. If that is the only way I can be with him, then let Apollo strike me down now.  
  
"Briseis!" Paris was calling me. I held onto tighter to Achilles, but he was pushing me away.  
  
"...You gave me peace...in a lifetime of war. For that, I am eternally glad." His voice was shaking and he was hardly taking breath anymore. "Go now, Briseis, before it is too late."  
  
He pried my arms away from him. I wanted to scream in despair, I wanted to tell him I loved him. But tears and fear and sadness had me strangled. He opened my hands and put a shell necklace into them. The one his mother had made for him. Then he put his hands on my cheeks and I kissed him dearly and gently. Then Paris had ripped me from him. Before Achilles fell back, I thought I saw him mouth the words 'I love you'. I made to run back to him, to tell him, to scream it if he couldn't hear it, but I was already rushing up the steps.  
  
..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'. .'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'..'  
  
Fresh tears bit under her eyelids. We could have saved him, if we had tried. She cast an angry glance at Paris. My cousin had murdered the only man I ever loved. I could never love like that again. My own cousin. He looked back at her, shocked at first at the look she'd given him.  
  
"Why are you so angry with me?" He asked. Inside, she screamed with frustration. Wasn't it obvious?  
  
"You killed who could not be killed. And I loved him." He looked at her strangely. "Yes, cousin, I loved him."  
  
"He was going to hurt you. I saw it."  
  
"He was holding me, that is all you saw. Then you striked him. Not once, but five times. Were you just ignoring my cries for you to stop?"  
  
"Briseis, he killed many of our men...hundreds. Then he took Hector from us, have you forgotten?"  
  
She looked away. "No, I did not forget. But Hector had killed his cousin. Isn't that the way war is?"  
  
"He held you captive for a long time, we thought you were dead."  
  
"I wish I were dead!" She muttered furiously. "Because my heart died back there, with Achilles."  
  
Paris stayed silent. He moved ahead to join Helen. Briseis breathed out, a new wave of sorrow crashing over her. She reached into a length of her dress and pulled out the shell necklace. It sparkled in the sunrise that crept over the horizon. She held it to her heart. Wait for me, she tought. Wait for me, and I will meet you at the river Styx.  
  
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So what did you think of it? Please review and such. You're such a big help! n.n; 


	2. Camp

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, just a nice little plot that I created of my own accord.  
  
Author's Note: The plot of this story is not Homer's, and if you don't like it, I extend my apologies. But I hope you'll enjoy the story anyway.  
  
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The sun was setting on the horizon, staining the clouds blood-red after the battle. Briseis had not still received the full impact of what all had happened last night. She'd lost her uncle and king, lost some very dear friends, and she's lost her beloved city and country to the heathen Greeks. Why, oh why, did the gods frown upon them so? What had they done to deserve to be stripped of title, hearth and home?  
  
Camp was settling on the banks of the river. A fire was lit in the center, but there was no food. But Briseis' exhaustion over took her hunger. There were no tents, no blankets. She sat down on a patch of soft grass. She sighed and pushed back strands of her dark hair off her face. She heard light footsteps behind her and turned around to see. It was Andromache.  
  
"Good evening," Briseis said, more formally than she would have. But this is the first time she had to confront Andromache after the war. It was an awkward moment. She wondered if she hated her for wanting to be with the man who had killed her husband. She looked up at her, bracing herself for any verbal blow that Andromache might utter. And for a moment, they only stared at each other.  
  
Suddenly, Andromache threw herself upon Briseis. Falling to her knees, she embrace her cousin-in-law, almost crushing Astyanax between them. She cried onto her shoulder, her own shaking violently. Briseis embraced her in return, tears pouring from her own eyes. It did not need to be said or heard, she knew immediately that she held no contempt for her.  
  
"Forgive me," Andromache murmured inbetween sobs. Why was she apologizing? She had no neeed. She patted her back, trying to soothe her.  
  
"No, forgive me, cousin," Briseis said, wiping her eyes. Andromache drew back, her sobs becoming less. They looked at each other for a moment, with sympathy. But as soon as the women had stopped crying, Astyanax began to wail. Andromache held him tight, bouncing him gently and cooing.  
  
"He cries ever so often now," she said, holding the babe to her shoulder, still bouncing. Astyanax face burned pink from the effort of squalling. "He misses his father..."  
  
Briseis nodded, holding out her arms. Andromache handed over a very upset baby. She held him to her chest, her heartbeat under his cheek and rocked him slowly, shushing him and coaxing him for peace. With quite a lot of sniffles of discontent, Astyanax was soothed. Briseis held him in her arms. He was so tiny and beautiful and strong, she thought. Like his father. One day, I should like to have a child. Thinking that, the pit of her stomach felt like it just dropped away.  
  
"You are a lucky woman, Andromache," Briseis said, handing back her son. She placed him on a baby blanket for sleep.  
  
"We are both lucky, Briseis. Lucky to be alive," Andromache answered, gripping her hand as if to affirm her. Briseis nodded.  
  
They talked late into the night. For a time, Briseis forgot her anger, despair and sorrow. But soon, people were sleeping all around them and they decided to sleep as well. Back to back, Briseis closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. She soon fell into a disturbed one, full of memory. Her arms felt so empty, much like the night when Priam took her back into the city. But she dreamed of several nights before that...  
  
..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:....:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:....:..:..:..:..:..: ..:..:..:....:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:....:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..  
  
I was taken across the Greek camp without knowing where I was going. The soldier held my upper arm much too tightly in his hand. I winced in pain. I turned my head to look back toward the tent of Agamemnon. Where was he sending me? But any place had to be better than with him. I shuddered involuntarily. The soldier gripped my arm even tighter. Any place was even better than with that man they called Achilles. Her arm was going numb from the lack of circulation.  
  
"Release me!" I said, attempting to pull my arm from him.  
  
"Gladly," said the soldier gruffly. He let go of my arm, nearly throwing me. I lost balance and fell down. I growled and looked up at the man. He had some nerve. I stood up and brushed myself off, soon to be pushed aside by another man. What was going on? There were a couple more men coming toward me.  
  
"A gift..."Said the first soldier. "from Agamemnon."  
  
Before I knew it, I was grabbed and flung to the ground. I flayed my arms, but they were caught. I felt a cold han attempt to go up my robes.  
  
"No!" I yelled, kicking and throwing the man back. Then another soldier pelted me into my ribs, knocking the wind from me. "No!" I cried again, trying to free myself.  
  
"She's a tough one," said a gruff voice in my ear. "We should teach her a lesson first."  
  
They lifted me up and set me onto my feet. Immediately, I made to run, but I was stopped by a fist into my stomach. I coughed, my abdomen stinging badly.  
  
"Leave me be!" I cried, trying to wrench my arms away. Somebody then struck me across the face and I tasted blood. They threw me to another soldier, and I tried to run again, but he grabbed me, kicking my shins very hard. I could feel fire. I opened my eyes and there was one, and a brand sticking red hot out of it.  
  
"...slave girl..." I heard something whisper. I saw the red brand coming toward me, and I screamed for help. But I didn't feel the burn. Instead, I heard another soldier scream in pain. I was dropped to the ground in haste, my legs didn't work for standing at the moment.  
  
I only lay there for a moment, but a man picked me up into his arms. At first, I thought it was another soldier coming to harm me. I tried to escape the arms, but they held me fast. My efforts led me into a light unconciousness. I was just being carried away.  
  
I woke up soon enough though, finding myself being carried into a tent. I threw myself out of the man's arms. I landed sharply on my bottom. I looked up to see who had taken me away and saw the man they called Achilles. I felt half-grateful for me saving me from the unruly soldiers, but I hated him just as much. He was arrogant and haughty, thinking everyone below him. But I would not be one of those girls he used so often. I would not succumb.  
  
Achilles dipped a cloth into a bowl of water. He reached for me with it, attempting to clean my bleeding lip. I scampered backwards away from him. I did not need his help. He reached again and I pulled away once more. Frustrated, he threw the cloth at me. Anger welled up and I threw it in his face. He looked at me with a cold blue eye. I could care less if he was angry with me.  
  
"Eat," he ordered, offering me a platter of food. My insides burned with hunger as I looked at the tray of fruit. I opened my mouth, but I shook my head refusing. I watched him as he turned away from me, eating himself. I moved away to a corner of the tent, holding the cloth to my lips. As soon as he was asleep, I would flee to the city. No man would hold me captive.  
  
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Briseis fidgeted in her sleep, the dream disturbing her comfort. 


End file.
